Kidnapped

Should've Known

Chapter 12:

Neither of us slept well that night. The bed was too small for both of us and the stained concrete floor wasn't really an option. We had our backs against the wall when Ashley finally drifted off. Her head was resting on my shoulder but I could hardly feel it. Images of the girls I'd helped murder were flashing across my eyes, their screams still echoing in my ears. The fear was gone, but they weren't.

I must've dozed off at one point because I was jolted up right when the door opened. A tall, thin man in a plaid shirt and jeans stepped into the room. Officer Spick was behind him, holding the door open. The man's sandy blonde hair matched Ashley's, but his eyes were green instead of blue. The second he saw Ashley, I knew he was her dad. He reached out to her sleeping form as he walked toward us.

"Ashley." His voice was shuddering.

Ashley stirred beside me and slowly opened her eyes. "Dad?" She launched herself from the wall and into her father's arms. "Daddy!"

Their reunion was warming to see. He held her tightly and kissed her cheek over a thousand times. Despite his best efforts to keep his composure, he sobbed into his daughter's shoulder. Ashley seemed to be returning the favor.

"Dad, I love you!" She said. "I'm sorry! I'll never run off again, I promise. I'm sorry, daddy."

"No, no." His arms tightened around her. "No, it's okay baby girl. It's okay. It's not your fault. I love you too. I missed you so much. Oh, my baby girl! I thought I lost you."

Officer Spick approached me grimly with his handcuffs in hand. Almost tenderly, he pulled me off of the bed and slapped the cuffs onto my wrists. My heart dropped into my stomach as he read my Miranda Rights to me. I should've known it would come to this. A part of me did know, but the rest of me hoped that it wouldn't happen.

"You are under arrest for the kidnapping and attempted rape of Ashley Jacobs." Spick began pushing me out of the holding cell.

"Wait!" Ashley broke free of her dad and grabbed my arm. "You can't arrest him! He helped me escape! It's not his fault, it's his dad you're supposed to be going after. Let him go!"

"Ma'am, I need you to back away." Spick swatted her hand off of me. He turned to her dad. "You might want to see a counselor and check her for Stockholm Syndrome."

"Excuse me?" She was taken aback. Her dad grabbed her shoulders firmly to keep her rooted. "I'm not in love with him, I'm just saying that he doesn't deserve to be arrested. He's a victim too! Didn't you tell them, Andrew?"

"It's okay." I said. "I saw this coming. I- It's just how things are supposed to play out."

I was ushered out of the holding cell and back into an interrogation room. The mic was still there, but this time a man in a suit was sitting on my side of the table.

"I took the liberty of appointing you a lawyer." Spick told me. I was seated in the same chair I had used in my previous confession and Spick claimed his spot on the opposite side of the table. "I didn't think you would have one, anyway."

"My client and I need to speak privately before you start questioning him." The man in the monkey-suit was stiff, almost robotic in his movements. His words were short and clipped, as if he wanted nothing more than to get Spick out of the room. "While we are talking, I would appreciate you retrieving the tape with his recorded testimony and giving it to me."

"Right." Spick rolled his eyes as he stood. Once the door was shut behind him, my lawer turned to me, crossed his legs, and put his hands in his lap.

"Well?" He said.

"Well, what?" I looked around the room, catching my reflection in the one way mirror. Wow, I looked like crap. My hair was disheveled and dark rings were under my eyes from lack of sleep. I was slumped forward, looking more like an ape than a boy.

"Tell me what this is about." He leaned back in his chair, ready for story time. "I didn't have time to go over your file on the way here. This was very short notice."

"I'm being arrested for kidnapping and attempted rape." I mumbled.

"And where is the evidence to this?" My lawyer leaned forward.

"The girl I kidnapped. And my confession." I stared at his shoes. Were those loafers?

"Wait-" he looked appalled, "you're telling me that you've already told them you did it? That tape he's retrieving is your actual confession and not some bull to save yourself?"

I nodded.

"Well there goes getting you completely off the hook." He rubbed his forehead. "Where there any special circumstances to your case, or are you looking at prison?"

"Well, I- I didn't want to do it." I said. "My dad made me. He threatened to kill me if I didn't."

"Good, good." He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Good?" I met his eyes with an incredulous stare.

"Yes, good." He sighed again. "If we play our cards right, we can get you mostly off the hook. You won't face prison. Probation, maybe. But prison can be easily avoided. Now, tell me how your- dad was it?" I nodded. "Tell me how he made you."

I told the story from the beginning, but decided to keep the gore out of it this time. This guy didn't seem like the type who could stomach the details. After I regaled him with my horror story, he started rattling off ways he could keep me out of prison. I appreciated his enthusiasm, but it all seemed out of place. He seemed too casual about all of it. Like he had no idea how horrible it actually was, and he was just dealing with another client. I guess he would've felt that way, he must've had calls like this all the time.

Spick returned with the tape of my confession and my lawyer stuffed it into his pocket. He thanked Spick and stood, as if to leave.

"We have a solid case." My lawyer said. "You won't be needing me until the hearing. Nor him, so you can just take him back to the holding cell. You have his confession. I don't know why you felt you needed to question him again."

Spick shrugged. "I needed some incentive to get you down here, Zipf."

"You're acting like I don't care for these cases." My lawyer, Zipf, scoffed.

"No." Spick held up a finger. "YOU'RE acting like you don't care for these cases."

Zipf made a face and left. Spick took me by the arm and lead me back down to my holding cell.

"You'll be staying here until your hearing." He said. "I'll get you your jumper."

He wasn't gone too long, I guess finding an orange jumpsuit in my size wasn't that difficult. He took my clothes after I had changed and didn't return until dinner time. He gave me mashed potatoes and- something that may or may not have been meatloaf. It reminded me of so many childish books I read about 'mystery meatloaf' and I laughed. I could imagine it growing legs and trying to conquer the world on it's mushy limbs. It didn't taste bad, but I have definitely tasted better meals in my life.

My first night in the cell was more pleasant than I would've thought. When you think of a holding cell you think of dirty, nasty people who are drunk or high. Officer Spick made sure I didn't have to deal with any of those people and I could just lay in the bed and think. The weight of all of those girls' deaths was gone from my shoulders. Their screams still echoed in my head, but this time they weren't as loud. As the night wore on, I found my thoughts turning away from the screaming and focusing on Ashley. I closed my eyes and replayed our kiss in my mind over, and over again. My heart skipped a beat each time. She really got to me. My arms yearned for her body to hold, and my lips tingled with a desire to find hers again. I wanted to feel her warmth, the warmth that radiated off of her when she wasn't afraid. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her.

I drifted off to sleep with the memory of her in my arms and a determination to see her again.